


Comfort in Memories

by cathgotyourtongue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I write them the way I see them, M/M, mention of Ushiwaka somewhere, or maybe not???, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathgotyourtongue/pseuds/cathgotyourtongue
Summary: Oikawa takes one step forward, and another, and another. He can feel his knees shaking; he doesn’t know how to approach Iwaizumi when he is like this, when their roles are reversed.He never thought he ever had to.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Comfort in Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Happy IwaOi Day! 
> 
> Again, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes/inconsistencies, please let me know! This is my first time celebrating 04/01, so thanks for taking the time to even glance at it. Please enjoy!

Nothing about Iwaizumi is weak. Since they first met in first grade, Iwaizumi already brought about an air of authority around him. His eyes, always so intense, could speak so many words with nothing but a single glance. He was loud enough to garner the attention of a room, but not loud enough to appear obnoxious. He had garnered the attention of a particularly shy student by the name of Oikawa Tooru, and on that fateful day, as Iwaizumi pulled him by the wrist to join his group of friends in a friendly game of tag, Oikawa gazed at the back of his future best friend, and saw the softness hiding behind Iwa-chan’s gruff exterior. Oikawa loved it.

Iwaizumi didn’t have to fake anything about him to appear strong. Growing older, Oikawa noticed the gradual lowering of Iwaizumi’s voice, no longer as loud or as noisy as he had been as a child. Now it was deeper, hoarser. Sometimes, when they were close enough, Oikawa would shiver at the sound.

His unruly, spiky hair was never styled but was still appropriately threatening. His posture was always laid back, a picture of nonchalance, and while his stature wasn’t anything impressive at 5’11”, he could look down on anyone with just a slight upward tilt of his chin.

His terrifying aura did nothing to thwart the admiration of his male peers, though. Instead of being intimidated, they were quickly drawn to the appeal of such manliness.

Oikawa had consciously adjusted to that. Assured that Iwaizumi bore enough masculinity to supply the both of them, he had taken the role of the nicer, more approachable half. While the guys in their year worshipped Iwaizumi’s biceps and abs, the girls looked to Oikawa for his charming eyes, his bright smile.

As they continued to spend their daily lives together, Oikawa realized his best friend was adjusting in return. As he gained his confidence, trying to match Iwaizumi’s magnetism in his own way, his best friend had settled comfortably behind him in the shadows, watching proudly as Oikawa basked in the glory of the lime light, even if he would never admit it out loud.

Iwaizumi remained a constant in Oikawa Tooru’s rapid growth. A security blanket in times of failure and anxiety.

Or, more accurately, a fire blanket. Hovering above him, ready to smother the toxic fumes of Oikawa’s aggressive acceleration, killing Oikawa’s self-destructive tendencies before they could even begin.

He’s so used to their roles, so comfortable in the dynamics of their friendship that Oikawa thinks nothing could have ever prepared him for this moment.

* * *

He stands just outside the doorway of the empty Sendai Gymnasium roofdeck, barely an hour after their loss to Karasuno.

He watches helplessly, uselessly, as Iwaizumi clasps the railing, shakily sliding down to his knees. As his other hand grips his hair tight, cheeks wet with tears from eyes screwed shut, Iwaizumi Hajime opens his mouth wide in a silent scream of despair.

The scene before him leaves him frozen in place, breath stuck in his throat, afraid that any movement would deal the finishing blow, destroying the man at the very center of it.

Iwaizumi Hajime, embodiment of stability, pillar of his strength, foundation of his every success, is on his knees, crumbling to the ground.

Oikawa wraps his arms around himself, as if it would prevent himself from crumbling down as well.

He frantically scans through every image that flickered to his mind as all these thoughts, all the memories and realizations from the past decade of their friendship flood him like a storm, and he is looking, searching desperately for that one crucial moment in their lives, the turning point in their friendship when Iwaizumi had begun to look to Oikawa for strength and Oikawa was not there; had been too self-absorbed to notice.

His mind conjures the memories of their games with Shiratorizawa, countless consecutive tournaments, year by year, loss after loss.

He sees Iwaizumi’s face, full of rage, regret, and blame…

And realizes none of them has ever been directed at him.

_“Do you think you’re fighting by yourself?”_

Oikawa takes one step forward, and another, and another. He can feel his knees shaking; he doesn’t know how to approach Iwaizumi when he is like this, when their roles are reversed. He never thought he ever had to.

Iwaizumi doesn’t notice him until it is too late, until Oikawa has already knelt beside him, a comforting hand on his back. Until there is no time left to wipe his cheeks of his tears, or to don the mask over the sheer vulnerability on his face, a facet of him Oikawa never knew existed. Iwaizumi looks up at him, eyes wide and frantic. “Oika—”

“Iwa-chan.” He pleads. For what, he doesn’t know.

Iwaizumi looks away for a moment and breathes in, as if mustering his strength. “I’m sorry, Oikawa,“ He sputters, his chest wracking with unrestrained sobs. “For failing you again. And again. And again—“

“Iwa-chan!” He almost yells, as offended as he is shocked. This is so strange, he has never seen Iwa-chan so remorseful, so utterly destroyed—

“He was right, Oikawa. You should’ve—,” he heaves, as if collecting what remained of his dignity and throwing it into the wind. “You should’ve _left_ me. You could’ve won, Oikawa, every time, if it weren’t for _me_.” He breathes in, braces himself for the pain of the words he was about to say and he screws his eyes shut again.

“You should’ve gone to Shiratoriza—“

_“Hajime-chan.”_

His voice quivers as he cuts in, struggling to remove the hurt from it, because how _dare_ Iwa-chan give him away, like he hadn’t chosen Iwa-chan of his own volition, like he doesn’t believe the complete and absolute trust that Oikawa readily gives him in every game, in every single day of their lives together—

He thinks he retained the authority in his tone, however, because Iwaizumi stills, and the utter nonsense stops flowing from his mouth.

He wraps his arms around his best friend’s broad shoulders. He feels the fear and loss eating up his insides, and he hopes it doesn’t show.

He is used to cheering up his team, he knows what tone of voice, what volume to use when speaking to lift up their spirits. He knows exactly how to word his concerns, his encouragements, how to inject his emotions in them, so that his teammates may feel them as well. There’s a reason he was voted as the team Captain, after all.

But this, here, _now_ , he feels utterly useless.

“Hajime-chan,” He tries, uttering his best friend’s name quietly, a nickname from days of past. The words roll on his tongue as familiarly as it had ten years ago when he last used it, and he hopes he could summon the soothing nostalgic feelings of the simpler days spent under the comfort of the shade underneath the trees, cool breeze in their hair, soft grass beneath their backs.

He feels his best friend grasp his jacket over his chest with both fists, holding on to it—holding on to him—like a lifeline, the cloth of it tight against his knuckles as they shake lightly. He hears a low sob, rough and weak and full of anguish. He doesn’t close his eyes even as tears blur his vision.

“Oikawa—“

He interrupts Iwaizumi with a sharp shake of his head. _No. Not good enough_ , he wants to say, but his words left him, leaving only one behind. He puts one hand on Iwaizumi’s hair, stroking it slowly, yearning to calm the troubled seas in his best friend’s heart.

“Hajime-chan.” He whispers forcefully, and he pulls Iwaizumi closer, until his tears stained his shirt, until the space between them is practically nonexistent.

He recalls memories of running through his backyard with his childhood friend, catching nets in their hands, dirt on their knees, laughter in their faces. He recalls the nights spent in bed, flashlights hovering over the _Volleyball Monthly_ magazine, pillows carefully stacked around them, a thick blanket over their heads as they created their own world, separated themselves from reality. He recalls their memories and prays to all the gods that Iwaizumi remembers them through his voice.

 _Remember them, Hajime-chan._ Oikawa thinks. _Remember me._

Iwaizumi’s sobs halt for a moment to give way to his voice. Oikawa stills, his heart stuck in his throat, and he listens as Iwaizumi whispers quietly into his neck.

_“Tooru-kun.”_

Tooru-kun smiles, his heart dropping back into its normal place, fluttering behind his ribs. He tightens his hug around Hajime-chan and presses his lips on his hair, because for a moment they are transported to the past, back underneath their fort, where pillows muffled their laughter, and a magazine spread on their laps and their hands locked together tight. He smiles because he’s back, right where he belongs.

“Welcome back, Hajime-chan.” _Welcome back to me._

* * *

“You sounded like him, you know.” They are still wiping their tears, smoothing their clothes where they stand. They just recovered from the somber mood a few minutes ago, but Tooru just couldn’t stop himself from teasing his ace.

“Like who?”

“Ushiwaka-chan.” Tooru answers brightly, matter-of-factly, and when he sees horror and embarrassment light up on Hajime's face, he presses his palms over his hair and pulls an exaggerated scowl over his face, in his opinion a perfect imitation of their rival, and spoke with a voice much deeper than his own, _“You should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.”_

Iwaizumi tackles him to the ground then, tickling his sides hard and forcing him on his back. Oikawa yells loudly in surprise, his mouth open in deafening shrieks of laughter. He's crying for an entirely different reason now, and he thinks he's going to die, but then he catches a glimpse of the face above him, of Hajime-chan, soft and vulnerable and laughing and so, so perfect, and he thinks that if he's going to die anyway, this may just be the best way to go.

**Author's Note:**

> A little rushed, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. I hope you don't mind it being as short as it is.
> 
> Visit my [tumblr](https://cathgotyourtongue.tumblr.com/) sometime!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.


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